


with all my thorns

by kerrykins



Category: Big Little Lies (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Hurt/Comfort, fiction&femslashevent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 09:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19867006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerrykins/pseuds/kerrykins
Summary: was intended to be longer but here it is regardless! i started this in may, hence the poor quality. apologies for any typos/errors





	with all my thorns

**Author's Note:**

> was intended to be longer but here it is regardless! i started this in may, hence the poor quality. apologies for any typos/errors

_“I’m waiting for someone to swallow me up, but with all my thorns.”_

—Gina Labriola, Edgar Pauk, from _“Orgy, that is, Vegetable Market, at Sarno,”_

Warmth settles upon the five women on the beach. It’s a beautiful day, the kind that deserves to be taken pictures of; but none of them do anything other than rest and watch their children play. It’s what they deserve after everything they’ve gone through these past two weeks.

Chloe leads the other children as they stomp through the water, giggling and shrieking with delight. Ziggy and Amabella sit in the sand and build castles together.

Despite the summer sun and gentle lapping of waves along the shore, something heavy sits in the air. Closure. Guilt. Disbelief. Joy. Horror.

They’re five different people connected by a common experience, bound to the same secret. Five hearts on the beach beat as one.

___

The red and blue lights of police cars illuminate the streets, reflecting off of horror-stricken faces, sirens wailing relentlessly in the distance. Celeste doesn’t know what to look at, her gaze going everywhere— Perry’s dead body, the crowd, Madeline sobbing into Ed’s shoulder, the policeman and Renata talking in hushed tones.

Jane holds Celeste, her embrace warm and reassuring. Her fingers, which shake only a little, trace small circles on her back. Celeste tenses a little at the touch, reminded of Perry’s hands on her, groping and pushing and forceful. Jane’s are delicate and gentle but still Celeste stiffens.

“I’m sorry,” Jane says, withdrawing her hand. “I should have asked, I’m sorry.”

Celeste just nods, trembling still. Silent waves of grief and relief and fear pummel her, each newfound emotion worse than the one before. It's a kind of pain that is impossible to articulate, impossible to navigate. Sitting at the top of the stairs, she stares down below them at the pool of blood Perry’s body left behind.

“We’re going to be okay,” Jane says, her voice raw. Celeste so desperately wants to believe it, but fails to. At a loss for what else to do, she takes Jane’s hand in hers and together they watch chaos unfold beneath them. Celeste sneaks a glance at Jane, whose hair is falling out of its Audrey Hepburn updo. Her eyes shine with tears that haven’t yet fallen, ugly red marks scattered along her neck. She looks younger than Celeste has ever seen before, fragile and helpless.

God. Perry was the one who hurt Jane. The knowledge makes Celeste’s stomach lurch and twist. Six years ago, they had been married. Six years ago, Jane had only been 21. When Celeste was 21, she danced and laughed and hadn’t even known the name Perry Wright.

“I’m so sorry,” Celeste whispers, her voice coming out unsteady and cracked. She doesn’t sound like herself. “I’m so sorry, so sorry.” She finds herself repeating the words like a mantra, not stopping even when Jane presses herself against her.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe it is,” says Celeste. Then she finally gives in and sobs into Jane’s shoulder, who lets her.

___

It all blows over much quicker than any of them thought it would. Soon the police stop interrogating them, spare for one detective still prowling Monterey— but they’ve collectively made the decision not to worry about her. Celeste worries very much nonetheless but decides not to tell them; not yet, because it’s too soon.

They start trying to meet for coffee at least once a week. Madeline always insists on paying and they always let her. Celeste had been content when it was just her, Madeline, and Jane; but this feels complete. Maybe not perfect like any of them wish it was, but it’s _right._ Just right.

Who knew a murder of all things would bring them so close together? Bonnie has invited them all over for dinner at least seven times this past month alone. Celeste watches Jane laugh at something outrageous Madeline has said, finding herself smiling at them. Celeste is glad that they’re safe and able to laugh and live as they please. Bonnie and Renata are new to the group but any passerby would guess that they’ve all known each other for years. It certainly feels that way sometimes, Celeste muses. Renata and Madeline are always absentmindedly finishing each other’s sentences; they have dinner together every couple days; Renata and Jane carpool together. It’s miraculous that so much has changed since Trivia Night. This is all Celeste needs, all she wants. Not the perfect marriage or the perfect house by the sea or even to be perfect herself. Renata tosses a napkin at Madeline, who scoffs and is quick to retaliate. The feud is short-lived as Tom comes out to stop it, but before he gets there coffee has already been knocked over and napkins litter the floor.

“Here,” Jane says, carefully dabbing at Celeste’s chin with a napkin. Her touch jolts Celeste away from her meandering thoughts. “You’ve got some coffee on your face.” 

“Thank you.” Celeste smiles at her. Jane’s eyes are a deep green, flecked with gold. They’re still unspeakably sad, wistful. Celeste reaches out to cup her face like she had at Perry’s funeral, gently. Jane is warm, soft, and Celeste’s heart surges with pain. Perry may be gone but there’s no denying that something dark still festers in the both of them.

Celeste strokes Jane’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, then reluctantly lets her hand fall.

None of the other women seem to take notice of what’s happened as Madeline has riled them up with news about the community theatre. Celeste finally decides to tune in and see what all the fuss is about.

“Madeline, listen,” Renata is saying. “While I may have been a little difficult during the production of Avenue Q, you should keep doing this. It makes you happy, right?”

Madeline nods vigorously. “Yes, but you have to consider—” She raises her eyebrows, as if struck by inspiration. “How else am I going to make time for you girls?”

“Oh, please.” Renata rolls her eyes as she sips her coffee. “You just made that up on the spot.”

“I did not!”

“Uh huh.”

Celeste listens as they bicker back and forth, staring up at the sky. Monterey is grey year-round except in the summer— now it’s bright blue, with a sparse amount of clouds streaking across. A pleasant breeze rustles through the trees, causing them to sway to and fro ever so slightly.

Soon it’s time for everyone to leave and so they do, embracing each other and confirming plans for another time. They all have obligations as mothers, wives, professionals. Except for Celeste and Jane, whose children are still in school, who don’t have husbands to look after, and no lunch appointments with investors.

For the first few minutes, they’re quiet. Celeste thinks this is understandable— they are both introverts at heart and neither Madeline nor Renata is there to maintain a conversation. Jane orders two more coffees for the both of them. When the silence becomes stifling Celeste decides to speak.

“How’s Ziggy?”

“Great.” As Celeste expects, the younger woman’s eyes light up a little at the mention of her son. “He likes baseball now,” Jane continues, her smile reserved but proud. “And he’s scored three home runs so far.” Her joy is contagious and Celeste smiles too.

“That’s fantastic. Max won’t stop telling me what a great player Ziggy is and now he wants to sign up this year for it too.” They share a small laugh over that and go quiet.

Then Jane’s jaw tenses. “I don’t know if I should tell Ziggy.”

Celeste’s breath catches at that. There are many things that Jane could be talking about but she has a good idea as to which one it is. “Oh. Well, are you comfortable with that?”

“No.”

“Then don’t,” Celeste says, raising a steaming mug to her lips. She freezes, realising how brusque that must sound. “Unless you want to,” she amends. “The point is, don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

“Yeah. Ziggy just keeps asking me about his dad, so,” Jane trails off, shrugging one shoulder. “I feel like I should tell him now that I know.” She tilts her head at Celeste, biting her bottom lip. “Would you be okay with that? I mean, this would affect you too.”

Celeste is astonished. Miraculously, she hadn’t realised that until now. Would her boys like being half-brothers with Ziggy? Celeste conjures up the image of them all sharing a single house, hosting Sunday barbecues, going to the school play together. Like a family. Her heart swells with emotion at the thought.

“Sorry for asking,” Jane says, looking flustered and toying with her hair. She’s recently cut her hair. The bangs are too short and it doesn’t frame her face well, but Celeste finds it charming. “I understand that you’ll need time to think about it—“

Celeste is getting too far ahead of herself; chances are that nothing would change. “No, it’s all right.” She gives Jane a disarming smile. “I was just thinking about it. We can tell them later, if that’s okay.”

___

Ziggy and the twins run off onto the deck to play with their lightsabers, stomping across the wooden floorboards.

Celeste and Jane let out matching sighs of relief when they’re gone, and exchange glances.

“They’re so sweet but such a handful.” She eases into the upholstery of the couch.

“Yeah.” Jane lets out a shaky, breathless laugh. Celeste studies her and decides that this is the closest she’s seen the younger woman to relaxed. It makes for a nice change, she thinks as Jane leans on her. The young woman’s breath is warm on her neck, the subtle scent of soap and coffee enveloping Celeste.

Celeste sells the house with the big wooden deck as soon as she can. She can’t stop seeing Perry in the furniture and their marriage bed and that damned walk-in closet. She takes her boys to the apartment at the water’s edge and they don’t complain, for which Celeste is immensely grateful for. As a reward she takes them to ice cream parlour, from where she texts people of her new address— Jane first, then Madeline, Renata, and Bonnie. They reply with effusive congratulations. Of course Madeline is indignant about the house, though not to a degree that’s overwhelming.

“Celeste, you know I love you and I understand why you did it,” Madeline squawks. Celeste just sighs in tender exasperation because she had been expecting this. “But I could have found a good real estate agent to sell it for you...” Madeline then launches into a monologue about the art of haggling. Celeste listens attentively and murmurs her half-hearted agreement.

Soon all four women show up at Celeste’s new home and shower her in a variety of housewarming gifts. Renata and Madeline both give her outlandishly priced plates, Bonnie a batch of vegetarian lasagna, and Jane with some Stevie Nicks CDs. The apartment is a little small for five women and their rambunctious children but Celeste glows with pleasure the whole time. They drink and dance until 9:30– on a school night no less!

As always, Jane doesn’t leave with the others. Ziggy is asleep on the couch and the twins are in their room, so the two of them move to Celeste’s bedroom.

They talk about the new school year, Madeline’s latest adventures, and Celeste resuming her career.

“I’m old,” Celeste remarks, swirling a glass of wine in her hand. “But I want to at least give it one last shot, you know? After all, my mother-in-law will be coming over to help. I think it’ll be—”

Jane frowns at that. “That - _his_ mom is coming here?” She sounds a little alarmed.

“Yes. Next week, in fact.” Celeste’s eyes dart from Jane’s shocked face to the window. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Jane shrinks back, holding a hand up. “Sorry. I just - I didn’t expect that. Is she nice to you?”

Celeste remembers the way Mary Louise had sized her up the first time Perry had brought her home with him for Thanksgiving, finding nothing but imperfections. “She’s fine, we get along well.” Celeste tries to smile. “How’s Tom?”

“He’s good,” says Jane, though she spares Celeste one more concerned glance before changing the topic.

Soon their conversation takes an odd turn.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Jane inquires, sprawled across Celeste’s bed. Her shirt rides up as she stretches, revealing sunkissed, freckled skin. There’s the dark fabric of her bra and slight swell of her breast. Celeste’s eyes linger a little too long before she finally looks away.

“No.” Celeste’s heart thuds in her chest. She feels something familiar and warm worming its way into her gut. She presses a hand to her mouth, as if to prevent her unspoken thoughts and sudden desires from tumbling out.

“Cool,” Jane says, seemingly unaware of the effect she’s having on Celeste. Her gaze turns apologetic at something she must see in Celeste’s face. “I’m sorry for asking.”

“There’s no need for you to be sorry,” murmurs Celeste, distracted as she pushes a stray lock of hair back behind her ear. “I’m just very tired, it’s getting late.”

Jane opens her mouth, presumably to inquire further, but then she shakes her head. “Don’t let me keep you then, I’ll be on my way home now.” She slides off the bed and her shirt falls back to cover her stomach.

Celeste reaches out to tentatively touch Jane’s wrist. “No, stay if you want. Ziggy’s already asleep and I’d hate to wake him.”

They regard each other— Jane standing and Celeste still sitting cross-legged on the bed.

“Thanks,” Jane says softly. She turns and walks out of the bedroom, leaving Celeste shocked and with a quiet ache in her stomach she isn’t sure how to silence.

Jane sleeps over and eventually joins Ziggy on the couch, while Celeste lies in her bed wide awake.

She soon falls into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

___

Celeste expects Mary Louise to be angry. Screaming in her face, violently weeping, the like. Instead she is silent. The kind of silent that makes Celeste’s skin prickle uncomfortably and acutely aware of her mother-in-law’s constant, watchful gaze. Her entire face is tight with tension, each glance in Celeste’s direction a wordless accusation. Even in sleep, Celeste can’t seem to escape her. Now not one, but two demons haunt her dreamscape.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Celeste says helplessly. They’re parked outside the beach in Madeline’s SUV. “God, she’s everywhere.”

Madeline’s face draws into a small frown, propping her chin up with a hand. “Have you asked her to leave? Because she’s a freak and seriously needs to get the fuck out of your house.”

“I don’t think she would say yes.” Celeste doesn’t tell her how utterly afraid she is. “And the thing is that I think she knows.” At Madeline’s confused expression, she clarifies, “The murder. Ziggy and Jane. Everything.”

“Perry’s death wasn’t a murder,” Madeline says firmly. “And it’s not your fault.”

Everyone tells Celeste that. She’s heard it at least forty different ways but it’s done nothing to chase away her guilt. It follows her like a shadow, everywhere she goes.

As Celeste drives along the peninsula, she sees the shoreline and all the new, shiny residential properties. She envisions them full of equally new and shiny families. Ones that have picnics on the beach with chicken salad and lemonade and chocolate chip cookies. The houses remind Celeste of her own, painted in pleasantly bland colours of cream and coffee.

Seeing all those houses, vacant but soon to be sold, makes Celeste strangely uneasy. The houses, like her own, might hold families like hers. She wonders if there will be new husbands that beat their new wives in those beautiful homes, with beautiful children. The new houses are far too close together, practically sharing walls. Any screams will be heard by neighbours.

_Good_ , Celeste thinks to herself. Then she keeps driving.

Before Mary Louise, Celeste’s apartment had been somewhat of a safe haven. All five women would meet there regularly for drinks, Netflix, and small talk. Now all of them avoid it like the plague. All of them except Jane. They’re sprawled across Celeste’s bed, giving each other a play-by-play of their days. They have to be quiet though, because Mary Louise could be listening just outside, and the boys are all sleeping. Celeste wonders if she and Jane would have gotten this close were they not family. She doubts it, though a hopeful part of her wants to say yes.

“I don’t think things are gonna happen between me and Corey,” Jane is saying, her brow knit in disappointment. “He’s sweet and all, but I don’t know. We’re just not clicking.”

Celeste knows that disappointment all too well. She has hazy memories of waking up in the bed of a man she doesn’t know, then stumbling back home in a half-conscious stupor. She never recalls much from these encounters other than the fact that they were unsatisfying.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Celeste says, really meaning it. It’s disheartening for relationships to go awry, especially when said relationships are essential for recovery. Recovery from a broken heart, from abuse, from loss. Celeste’s aware that it’ll be a very long time until she’s whole again but she still keeps looking for that missing piece of herself in one-night stands.

“I know he’s gone, but I can still remember the smell of his cologne.” Jane looks down at her hands. “I can recite word-for-word everything he said to me. He called me fat. And unlovable, disgusting slut.” 

Celeste digests this information unwillingly. It’s amazing that despite everything Perry had done to her, she still tried to believe that deep down— he was a good person. But Jane is proof that his cruelty hadn’t been exclusive to her. If it had been, Celeste would be able to justify it. She was a bad wife, a bad mother, a bad person. It had been okay for him to slam her head into the wall but not for him to choke Jane in a hotel room, degrading her and fucking her senseless. It was an unnecessary kind of evil that Celeste wishes desperately she could have somehow protected Jane from. As much as Celeste’s bruises ached, they didn’t bring out the same vicious anger in her as seeing red marks on Jane’s arm, from when Perry grabbed her. It’s the kind of anger that makes her lose and find herself. Celeste doesn’t know what to say, how to make sense of her tangled thoughts. So she just tries her best not to cry when Jane takes her into a tight hug, which is exactly what she needs. It seems that what they have doesn’t require any words, just the company of each other.

In that one moment, Jane manages to make the new apartment feel like home. Among the new IKEA furniture and within the unfamiliar walls, there is bliss.


End file.
